#cullen v

Injury Prompts

Myrna clenched her jaw; she failed to hold his hand with a less punishing grip in her efforts to ward off the pain in her hip, but an effort was made. Damn Templars and their damn swords and arrows, and fucking shit this was bullshit and—

She knew this next part was going to hurt worse, it always did, but she had to keep a brave face for everyone. Creators forbid their Inquisitor cry from pain or let out any noise of protest from it.

It seemed like the arrow had missed the important parts, but she knew she wouldn't be walking for a few days without help once they got this damn thing out. If they did. Gods, she hoped it wasn't embedded in the bone or she was going to scream a litany of swears and pray infection took her quickly so she wouldn't have to deal with this.

Okay, so she was being over dramatic; Myrna felt like she was entitled to it in this situation.

"You just want me staring at your pretty face, is all," she joked through gritted teeth, trying and failing to smile at Cullen. It was make a horrible, ill-timed joke or burst into tears the moment the physician cut into her hip to try and dig out the arrow.

Fucking hell, couldn't they have gotten her something to bite down on?

She squeezed harder and clenched her eyes shut. Fuck fuck fuck.

Injury Prompts

He had tried to dart into a shadow to avoid the sword swinging at him; Cole didn't move quickly enough and wound up with a gash on his leg. It burned like fire, and any movement jostled it, causing him to grimace in pain. He had managed to disappear long enough to buy him a few moments to catch his breath, just enough time for Cullen to finish off the armored Venatori where it would be safe to come out again.

Cole limped to him, only to be immediately ordered to sit so Cullen could look at his leg. He didn't fight him, didn't argue that he was fine and not to worry about him; he just accepted the help and plopped down on the nearest log.

That didn't mean he wasn't struggling to hold still as Cullen wrapped a bandage around his thigh. It hurt, damnit. Of course he was moving away from the source of pain.

Then there was the fact that he was skittish around Cullen as it was and wanted to bolt; he knew the man's heart, that he meant Cole no harm, but a small part of him questioned 'what if?'

Self-Indulgent Meme

Unfortunately, the bastard had hooked a leg behind her's when she got too close to him and down they went. She'd dropped one of the dagger hilts in the fall and it sputtered out without her magic powering it, leaving her with just one, but she couldn't exactly stab him with it.

Whose idea was it to use their actual weapons again? Oh right, hers...she was a fool. Using practice daggers would have been better; there would be less focus on powering the things and more on not getting her ass kicked. Live and learn.

And she wasn't pouting about being had, thank the gods.

Instead she just bared her teeth at him as she struggled to try and push him off. The man was built like a brick shit house, and his armor made him weight enough that it knocked the wind out of her when they hit the ground.

Haven was gone, flattened by an avalanche and dragon fire—or whatever that blighted dragon was spitting out.

They'd finally settled for the night, and Jalon did what she did best: go around and tend to the injured. Almost everyone had a few cuts and bruises, but there were a handful that she wasn't sure would make it the night. Still, she and Adan did everything they could for them before he sent her away to take a break.

She would not be taking a break. There were more wounds to tend to than just physical. The faraway looks in people's eyes from shock was proof of that. So Jalon started passing out blankets and ushering stragglers to the fires to warm themselves. There was little sense in everyone freezing to death.

Their misery was enough for Hope to stir in the back of Jalon's mind in agitation, and Jalon worked quickly to try and cheer people up as she went. It wasn't going well; their situation was quite hopeless at the moment, and Hope demanded that she fix it.

"I'm trying," she had muttered to them.

The advisors were not exempt from her mothering, and the Commander was her final victim. The one she was not necessarily dreading, but not looking forward to either. The man unnerved her, but she put on a brave face and approached him with a steaming mug.

"You should really sit a moment, sir," she urged, passing him the mug of tea. It was weak, the cooks not having enough tea left to make a stronger brew for everyone, but something warm to drink was better than nothing in this weather. It was barely brewed tea or nothing. How the cooks managed to salvage anything at all in the chaos was beyond her...

Soft Prompts

Myrna followed behind Cullen on her nuggalope, Hathren, and closed her eyes to enjoy the lumbering sway of her mount. It was a gorgeous day in the valley, and she thoroughly enjoyed the warmth of the sun on her face. The sky was clear, the temperature was mild, and the air was fresh and clean. Not that Skyhold's air wasn't, but it was so damn cold up on that mountain that she couldn't enjoy it; she was miserable in the chill air.

But this? It was almost perfect.

She still didn't know what the Commander had planned for them all of the way out here, but she wasn't complaining about the break from the stress of always fighting with some demon or Red Templar, or doing mountains of paperwork, or training or or or...this was a nice change.

"Plan to tell me where we're going and why, or is it to remain a secret?"

Soft Prompts

She had worked for hours that day, hardly moving from her desk and the countless letters and reports. No food or water were consumed since breakfast—she didn't have the time—and it was, what, almost dinner time? Or perhaps later...the light outside was dying, the sun beginning to dip behind the mountains that surrounded Skyhold and bathing her room in shadows flanked by multicolored light from the stained glass.

Exhausted, she paused in her writing to rub at her tired eyes.

She heard a knock on her door and called for them to come in, followed by the sound of footsteps and the rustling of a heavy cloak.

Myrna glanced up from the letter she was writing when they reached the top of the stairs and smiled softly when she saw it was Cullen. She couldn't read his expression, but she saw the tray with food in his hands. It had her stomach growling with desire for whatever was on that plate.

First Meeting

Her smile was a bit sheepish, and she quickly took the offered pouch. Jalon's hands were careful not to touch his so he wouldn't feel the chill of them.